Page 53 of Gift for a Demon

Melchom’s subtle rigidity meant it worked. His muscles bulged before relaxing again, that flicker in his dark eyes ever present.

Dave focused on the images playing as home videos in his brain. He could even picture it like one of those old movies with the timers at the beginning, a faint sepia hue distorting the end result.

He showed him what it had been like when Melchom had peed in him, using him as a bucket. Dave’s cock twitched, too, remembering how owned he’d felt, how he’d wanted to choke but couldn’t, how he’d been desperate to please. How intoxicating, and pungent, and dirty, the smell had been. How he couldn’t have cared less.

Dave thought about later in the tub, showing Melchom how it felt when he stretched him on his fingers. How he’d fucked into him. Dave could tell Melchom had been holding back, his body betraying him with that slight vibration. He’d relished the moment when the demon’s instincts had taken over. It had eclipsed all the pain and the effort of keeping his hole relaxed for him. It hadn’t mattered anymore.

It had become a delirious game of chasing more, of needing that stimulation, that friction against his prostate, that kept driving his blood south.

Dave bit his lip. He didn’t want to start whimpering wantonly and drive the demon’s focus away from his thoughts.

Well, he wanted it, but he wanted to touch even more. To explore.

Melchom’s eyes darkened, his nostrils flaring when Dave’s fingers started exploring his abdomen.

For a second, Dave held his breath, but the demon didn’t complain, didn’t push out of reach. So he let his hands travel upward, flicked the engorged nipples, and blinked innocently when Melchom squinted his eyes at him.

Careful, Dove.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” Dave didn’t know what made him feel so brazen, but he found himself curving up, licking his bottom lip.

You want to play, then?

The strain in Melchom’s voice, even when it was inside his head, only emboldened him further.

“Always.”

Melchom scoffed, but he didn’t fight him. No, what the fucker did was slide down the bed until he was breathing straight into Dave’s cock.

His very attention deprived cock, thank you very much.

Why, yes, he was aware that he’d come less than twenty minutes ago.

“What are you—”

Melchom pinned him with that heated gaze of his. “No horns, Dove.”

“W-what?”

Oh.

Fuck.

Dave groaned, his body drawing taut as Melchom engulfed him in his mouth.

One hand flew to the demon’s head, clutching a fistful of hair between the aforementioned horns. He cursed, his other hand clutching the bedsheets. When he’d first seen that slitted tongue, he should’ve realized how mind-blowing it would be when it slid around his length, almost covering it all.

He whimpered. Melchom had barely started, but fuck. His hips bucked upward. He would usually be more thoughtful. Dave figured the demon would pin his body in place if he didn’t want him moving, though.

Melchom didn’t do such things. Dave was clearly dead because there was no way a blowjob like that existed in real life. Right?

He didn’t know.

Thinking was extremely hard when he was surrounded by so much warmth, and…

“Melchom, I–” At least he was trying to warn him, right? He still had some manners. “Fuck, this is so embarrassing–”

He thought Melchom chuckled around his dick, but it was hard to say. Even harder because he was shooting down the demon’s throat, and he had that tongue lapping every drop of cum and oh fuck.

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